A     I'OKM 


'.i  TTUIA  S     RICH 


A.      h'JYO  WLES      R  1C  H, 


Nob.  V: 


BY    REV.    K.    A.   BALLOU. 


"Domestic  bliss, 

That  can,  the  world  eluding,  be  itself 
A  world  enjoyed." 


BOSTON: 

1  <  i  I  t  V        r  TV  TV  K  S     «r 


37      COR  X  HILL 


A   POEM 


READ    AT     TBK 


MATTHIAS     RICH 


SARAH    A.    KNOWLES      RICH. 


Nob.  19,  1866, 


BY  REV.  R.  A.  BALLOU. 


"Domestic  bliss, 

That  can,  the  world  eluding,  be  itself 
A  world  enjoyed." 


•    BOSTON: 
BY      INKTES 
37      CORNHILL. 

1867. 


HE  silver  moon  is  in  the  sky, 
The  stars  their  silver  light  are  shedding, 

| 

Where  silver  meadows  silent  lie, 
That  silver  feet  are  softly  treading. 


A  silver  bridge  the  water  spans, 

Where  silver  fountains  pure  are  flowing, 

And  fairy  boats  o'er  silver  sands 
With  silver  oars  are  lightly  rowing. 

And  silver  voices,  sweet  and  clear, 
In  silver  tones  are  gayly  singing; 

While  merry  guests,  afar  and  near, 
Their  costly  silver  gifts  are  bringing. 


SILVER     WEDDING. 


With  empty  hands  but  swelling  heart, 
A  wreath  of  silver  thoughts  entwining, 

I  bring  a  gift  of  lowly  art, 
From  my  poetic  silver  mining. 


In  merry  England's  days  of  old, 

When  maids  were  fair  and  knights  were  bold, 

A  crusty  old  bachelor  sat,  one  day, 

Grumbling  alone,  and  was  heard  to  say 

That  never  yet  was  there  known  a  fight 

By  lord  or  vassal,  yeoman  or  knight, 

On  any  occasion,  wrong  or  right, 

But  a  woman  was  in  the  rout. 
A  gallant  wit  at  once  replied, 
"  The  statement  need  not  be  denied ; 

Nothing  else  is  worth  fighting  about." 

And  now,  in  our  degenerate  time, 

When  lovers'  battles  are  fought  in  rhyme, 


SILVER    WEDDING. 


Wheii  the  iron  armor  worn  of  yore 

Gives  place  to  a  baby's  pinafore, 

When  the  flashing  sword  that  cut  to  the  quick 

Is  changed  for  a  dandy's  walking-stick, 

And  chivalry  stern,  which  wielded  the  lance, 
Is  dwindled  down  to  such  fine  romance, 

That  every  girl  who  is  courted  at  all 

Is  courted  under  a  "  waterfall," 

While  nameless  animals  build  their  lair 
Within  the  folds  of  her  shining  hair ;  — 

And  heroes  brave  and  stalwart  men, 

Who  once  were  knighted  the  sons  of  Mars, 

Are  now  but  knights  of  Apollo's  pen, 
Who  idle  gaze  at  falling  stars, 

And  vainly  seek,  with  feeble  will, 

To  rule  the  world  with  a  gray  goose  quill. 

E'en  now  that  the  sword  is  changed  for  the  pen, 

We  hear  it  said  by  sensible  men, 
Not  that  woman,  as  maiden  or  wife, 
Is  the  innocent  cause  of  every  strife, 


6  SILVER    WEDDING. 

But  that  woman  is  still  the  poet's  dream, 
And  marriage  is  still  the  author's  theme, 
And  whoever  thinks  to  write  a  book, 
On  which  the  public  will  deign  to  look,  — 
A  book  to  be  anything  but  a  miscarriage,  — 
Begins  it  with  love  and  ends  it  with  marriage ; 
For  not  only  youth  and  beauty  incline 
To  worship  together  at  Cupid's  shrine, 
But  men  and  matrons  are  heard  to  sing 
The  praise  of  the  matrimonial  ring ; 
And  those  who,  seeking  hymeneal  bowers, 
Are  married  at  twenty  with  music  and  flowers, 
Pleased  with  their  chains,  if  both  are  alive, 
Are  married  with  SILVER  at  forty-five. 
And  so,  it  happens,  to-night  we  are  threading 
The  winding  maze  of  a  Silver  Wedding. 

But  turn,  my  muse,  and  lift  the  veil 
Where  secrets  of  the  past  were  said ; 

Move  backward  on  the  track  of  time 
Where  five-and-twenty  years  have  sped, 


SILVER    WEDDING. 


And  bring  a  glimpse  of  life's  fair  morn 
Of  which  this  festive  eve  is  born. 

On  TRUEO'S  shore,  whose  silver  sand 

Rolls  back  Atlantic's  restless  tide, 
A  boy  and  girl  walk  hand  in  hand, 

A  youth  and  maid  sit  side  by  side. 
As  fragrance  of  the  dewy  morn, 

Or  flowers  blooming  at  their  feet, 
The  joys  that  in  their  hearts  are  born 

Of  their  communion  low  and  sweet. 
Life's  hopes  are  budding  in  their  path ; 

Life's  star  is  rising  in  their  sky ; 
Fair  promise  all  their  future  hath,  — 

One  love,  one  home,  one  destiny. 
A  sacred  service  makes  them  one, 
And  life's  long  marriage  is  begun. 

Methinks  I  see  them  as  they  stand 
Before  the  altar,  hand  in  hand,  — 
A  manly  youth  with  forehead  high, 
Of  noble  form  and  eagle  eye ; 


SILVER     WEDDING. 


A  blushing  maiden  young  and  fair, 
Sweet  orange  blossoms  in  her  hair. 

Kind  friends,  no  favor  is  denied; 

I  give  you  leave  to  kiss  the  bride. 

The  muse  must  now  venture  a  secret  to  tell,  — 
'Twas  everywhere  whispered  this  pair  married  well ; 
For  whatever  joys  he  could  wish  for  in  life, 
He  found  ready  made  at  the  hands  of  his  wife ; 

And  she,  it  is  said,  was  more  envied  than  he, 

As  happy  as  fortunate  woman  could  be ; 
For  hers  was  the  one  prize  so  eagerly  sought 
By  managing  dames  at  a  summer  resort, 

And  one  that  the  stoniest  heart  can  bewitch ; 

You've  guessed  her  good  fortune, — she  married 
RICH. 

But  not  these  scenes  alone  our  thought  shall  claim  ; 

For  downward  in  the  course  of  passing  years, 
Through  scenes  too  sweet  to  last,  too  dear  to  name, 

A  richer  field  of  riper  joys  appears, — 


SILVER     WEDDING.  9 

Joys  of  which  no  school-boy  ever  dreamed, 

Which  no  maiden's  fancy  ever  brought  to  view, 
Better  than  to  our  youthful  hopes  they  seemed, 

Holier  far  and  of  a  deeper  hue  ; 
For  joy  grows  sweeter  amid  falling  tears, 

And  love  grows  stronger  as  'tis  tried  by  pain ; 
And  hope  is  brighter  when  'tis  set  in  fears, 

And  life  is  dearer  when  it  seems  to  wane. 
And  from  the  anxious  fears  and  toil  and  strife, 
And  all  the  changing  scenes  of  middle  life,  — 
From  earnest  eiforts  that  success  has  crowned ; 
From  sympathy  in  disappointment  found ; 

From  hopes  that  in  the  tiny  cradle  lie ; 

From  joys  that  by  the  silent  grave  do  die  ; 
There  comes  a  deeper  love,  uniting  heart  to  heart, 
That  neither  good  nor  ill,  nor  life  nor  death  can  part. 

Such,  my  dear  friends,  is  the  union  you  have  known, 
Through  all  the  changing  scenes  of  five-and-twenty 
years, 


10 


SILVER     WEDDING. 


Such  may  it  be  when  as  many  more  have  flown, 
Rich  with  still  brighter  joys  and  dimmed  with  fewer 
tears. 

And  when,  if  life  be  spared  while  these  years  shall 

pass  away, 
You  shall  clasp  your  hands  again  on  your  Golden 

Wedding  day, 

May  it  be  with  filial  trust  in  Him  who  rules  on  high, 
That  life  shall  ever  live,  and  that  love  can  never  die. 


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